


To Follow One's Own Path

by ClarusMagnus



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Asexual Character, F/M, Multi, the Dovahkiin can be a jerk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 15:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5632372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClarusMagnus/pseuds/ClarusMagnus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorrin the Dovahkiin was a former sellsword turned hunter when he witnessed the slaughter at Helgen. After being sent to retrieve a stone tablet which may or may not exist, he seeks help in the form of a follower to aid his quest. Finding only a young Breton warrior who has yet to be hired in Skyrim, Thorrin takes a chance, and meets a new, dear friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Thorrin Bjornssen rode into Whiterun at dusk. His cloak flapped in the breeze as he tied up his gelding before entering the Bannered Mare. He brushed the frost off of his short-cropped red-blond beard and lowered the hood of his cloak as he pushed the door open.

A wall of warmth hit him as he entered the building and sat at a corner table, waiting his turn for Saadia to serve him. After placing his order with the woman, he peeled his heavy leather gloves off of his hands and approached the fire in the middle of the room. Thorrin warmed his hands close to the fire, gently massaging the feeling and usefulness back into his fingers.

Thorrin looked around and observed that the inn was empty for the most part. With his hands warmed to his satisfaction, he turned his attention to Hulda and walked over to the bar. “I have need of a mercenary, but it looks like they’ve all left town.”

Hulda set down the mug she had been polishing with her dirty cloth. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen your face in Whiterun. I wondered if you’d come over to say hello,” she said with a smirk. “The jarl just posted the bounties for the month. I think most everyone has been hired out.”

Thorrin chuckled. “Then the black dragon everyone has seen has very poor timing, then. Are you sure everyone’s gone?”  
Hulda scanned the few patrons in the inn, then gestured toward a figure in the corner. “The one over there. She’s been staying here in the hopes of getting hired. They all passed over her.”

“Why’s that?” he asked.

Hulda shrugged. “I think it’s because she’s a Breton; she just got in from High Rock. I overheard a Battleborn saying she was untested in a Nord battle. Whatever that means, it sounds like she hasn’t seen a fight yet, at least in Skyrim.”

Thorrin ran a hand over his face and through his hair. “Gods. I don’t really have a choice, then. Wish me luck.”

The warrior strode over to where the woman sat writing in a small leather bound notebook. He pulled out the chair across from her and her head jerked up in his direction. He gestured to the chair, asking to sit down. She nodded her assent and finished writing down her thought as he sat.

With a last flourish, she put down her quill and looked at Thorrin. “Before you say a word,” she deadpanned, “I am for hire only as a sellsword; nothing else.”

He held up his hands in a sign of surrender. “Easy. I have no such intentions.”

She nodded and took a sip from the mead she had next to her notebook. “You may continue, then.”

He nodded his thanks and continued. “I have a need for another sword at my side. The jarl has sent me on some wild goose chase to find a stone tablet in Bleak Falls Barrow. Draugr aren’t something that one should mess around with, and I could use an extra pair of eyes and a skilled sword arm. The inkeep informed me that you are a sellsword,” he said. “Would you be amenable to following me around for this trip?”

She studied his face for a moment, looking for any sign of deception. Was this man, this Nord man, really willing to hire a Breton woman sellsword? The others had ridiculed her when she came in from High Rock, and refused to hire her when more imposing warriors like Uthgerd and Jenassa were available. He looked to be in earnest.

“Alright, I’ll bite. I charge 500 Septims per trip. When do you want to leave?” she said, giving nothing away.

He gave her a kind smile. “We leave at first light. Do you have a horse?”

She nodded. “The white mare at the stable is mine. I will have her ready to leave by first light. Is that where I will meet you?”

He considered for a moment. “I think the stable will be a good enough meeting place. I will see you tomorrow. Before I leave though, I don’t think you gave me your name.”

“Erilene,” she replied, “Erilene du Val.”

He nodded and said, “And I am Thorrin Bjornssen. I look forward to re-killing some dust men with you.”

* * *

 

  
The Breton had proven herself very capable of fighting. The sword she wore on her belt was made of steel mixed with silver, making a potent weapon against the undead they had faced. Beyond that, her skill with the blade would have surely taken down the monsters with the dullest iron sword.

They mounted their horses and headed back to Riverwood to return the odd golden claw to a shop owner. As they rode, Thorrin spoke. “You handled yourself well back there. I’m impressed.”

She grunted and refused to look at him. “When a man says ‘I’m impressed,’ he usually means he didn’t think she’d live up to her claims. Am I correct?” she said with unhidden disdain.

He shook his head. “No. Not at all. I’m saying that I haven’t seen such intricate sword work in a long time. Take the compliment, woman. I mean it.”

She nodded her head slowly and looked at him. “I…thank you. That is very kind of you.” She chewed on her lip and set her jaw. “I appreciate your willingness to hire me, untested as the others claimed me to be.”

He shrugged. “I find the most capable people are those eager to prove themselves. You very easily proved yourself to be a powerful warrior. I would go as far as saying I would like to keep you on full time.”

She stopped her horse dead in its tracks and turned to him. “You’re joking.”

He stopped his gelding and looked her in the eye. “I don’t lie about these things. I’m tired of having to track down friends or mercenaries who owe me a favor. I need someone reliable. You’re new to Skyrim, and I’m willing to give you a place in my house in Falkreath if you’ll agree to it.”

She stared at him in awe. This man who only knew her as the cynical Breton sellsword was willing to employ her steadily? She sent a brief prayer of thanks to the Divines, and spoke. “I…I will do it. You are too kind, sir.”

“Please,” he said with a chuckle, “call me Thorrin.”


	2. The Capture of Odahviing

6 months later

 

“Remind me again why I’m preparing to help lure an ancient dragon into a confined space?” Erilene said as she buckled her sword belt on over her armor.

Thorrin grunted and turned to her. “It’s the only way I can find out how to get to Sovngarde. Paarthurnax said there’s no other way. Odahviing is supposed to be a good friend to Alduin. This might be my only chance,” he said calmly.

“Right,” she replied with a raise of her eyebrows. “Are we ready to call for this dragon, then? I’d like to get this over with.”

Thorrin grinned. “Oh, please. You’re excited for this. Besides, how many dragons have you helped me put down? It’s nothing we can’t handle.”

She nodded and allowed herself a half-smile. “Let’s go, then.”

He grunted in agreement and shouted to Lydia, “I will see you when I return from Sovngarde!”

His housecarl came down the stairs from her small room and smiled at him as she retrieved his dagger from a table for him. “I will look for you when you return. Good luck, my thane.”

He nodded and walked through the door Erilene held open for him.

Their walk through the streets of Whiterun was filled with stares. Word had gotten out that the guard was preparing the dragon trap on the Great Porch and rumor had it that the Dovahkiin had plans to lure one for capture.

They climbed the stairs leading to Dragonsreach and entered the great hall, where the jarl was awaiting their arrival. “The trap stands ready to trap a dragon, Dragonborn. I hope you have a way to lure one in,” said Balgruuf.

Thorrin laughed and clapped the jarl on the back. “I assure you, there will be a dragon to catch today. I have some insider information.”

The jarl gave him a questioning look, then shook his head. “I’ll never understand how a man could be gladdened by the thought of a battle with a dragon, but let us carry out your plan.”

They made their way to the Great Porch where they met a host of Whiterun guards waiting for orders. Balgruuf stopped Thorrin and announced, “This is the Dragonborn. Until the dragon is captured, you will take orders from him. He knows how to deal with these beasts much better than I could. Divines be with us this day.”

A cheer came up from the ranks and the guards surrounded the Dragonborn, looking at him expectantly. He licked his lips and looked to Erilene, who shrugged and yelled, “To your posts! We will be calling the dragon as soon as you are in your places!”

The guards scattered and manned the levers and chains, bracing themselves for what was to come. Erilene looked to Thorrin and extended her arm for their customary pre-battle handshake. He gripped her forearm and set his jaw. “For the fate of Nirn, we fight. See you after, or see you in Sovngarde, my dearest friend.”

“Divines be with us,” she agreed, and put on her helmet. Thorrin did the same, and began to walk to the edge of the Great Porch, the Breton following closely.

When he reached the edge, he took in a deep breath and shouted, “Od ah viing!”

The air itself became heavier as his Thu’um travelled throughout Skyrim. Those on the Great Porch felt the vibration resonate in their chests as they felt the shout settle over them.

As suddenly as his shout started, it ended. After the shout ended, the air settled. No birds called from their nests on the walls of the palace. The usual din from the town was absent.

The peace was short-lived as a mighty roar sounded from the east. The flapping of massive wings heralded the approach of the one they called. Erilene took in the sight of the dragon, whose name she had learned meant Winged Snow-Hunter. He seemed prepared to hunt humans this day.

Thorrin put on his helm and drew his weapon, backing away from the edge of the wall. He gestured for Erilene to follow suit as the dragon came closer. One guard was too late in backing away, and was promptly grabbed and dropped to the ground, presumably to his death.

Thorrin’s upper lip twitched and he bared his teeth. With a rawness she had never heard before, he shouted “Joor zah frul!”

The shout hit the dragon in the chest, knocking its wingbeats out of rhythm. The power of the shout pulled him down to the floor of the Great Porch with a loud thump. The beast roared and spit fire at the Dragonborn and his companion, who kept backing up, desperately hoping that the trap would be sprung.

Then Erilene slipped. Oil from the trap had dripped onto the stone floor, making it slippery. She nearly fell, but managed to get her footing just in time. The momentary lapse of his attention on the dragon saw Thorrin get swiped with the dragon’s great head.

Thorrin was thrown into a pillar with more force than he’d ever experienced. The wind was knocked out of him, but he was still aware enough to see Erilene charge the beast and hit it on the muzzle as hard as she could.

Erilene couldn’t panic. If she did, the fight was over and the dragon would get away. She had to keep the beast’s attention so it wouldn’t go after Thorrin. She roared and cursed and tried desperately to hold its attention.

The tactic seemed to work, and finally the trap was sprung. The dragon let out a mournful snarl and lowered its head in defeat.

As soon as the trap was locked in place, Erilene sheathed her weapon and ran over to Thorrin. He sat up and threw off his helm with a groan. “Ugh. I’m fine, Erilene. Let me sit a moment.”

She nodded and seated herself next to him. “I’ll be damned. You actually trapped a gods-damned dragon.” She was breathing hard and pulled off her own helm before running a hand over her face. “This sort of thing is why you keep me around,” she said with a grin and a forced chuckle.

He sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Stay until I’m done asking my questions. We’ll see if you can come to Sovngarde.”

Thorrin rose and walked over to the dragon. “You did a number on me, Odahviing. Damn you,” he laughed. The dragon looked at him with question in his eyes, but began talking to the Dragonborn.

The dragon and Thorrin talked for a few minutes. It later became clear that she wouldn’t be joining him on this mission. When Thorrin returned to the wall where she sat, she stood.

“Well, I guess you’re on your own, Thor,” she said with a sigh. “Give Alduin a good bashing for me.”

Thorrin nodded and hugged her tight. “I’ll be back with the blood of Alduin on my blade. Tell Lydia I’ll return soon. Don’t wait up, dear friend; I fear it will be a while.”

“Akatosh be with you, Thor,” she said, and patted his bearded cheek. She smiled and walked to the edge of the Great Porch as he released Odahviing and climbed atop his neck.

With a roar, the dragon took off, leaving Erilene, the jarl, and the guards in the dust.


	3. Returning Victorious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorrin returns, and things change for everyone.

When Thorrin returned to Nirn victorious, he found himself again at the Throat of the World. This time, though, he found himself surrounded by dragons that were shouting and circling the mountain. _They’re calling me their lord_ , he thought.

He spoke briefly to Paarthurnax, then began his descent down the mountain. He could see Whiterun in the distance, and paused. He had a shout that would turn him ethereal for a moment. Thorrin shouted and saw himself turn translucent and jumped off the side of the mountain to the next ledge. He continued the pattern—shout, jump, shout, jump—until he reached the base.

  
Once he reached the bottom, Thorrin began his shorter trip to Whiterun.

  
At his arrival, the guards on the walls began to cheer. Thorrin entered the front gate and found a crowd waiting to greet him, headed by Erilene and Lydia.

  
The two walked over to Thorrin and Erilene gave him a quick hug. “As soon as we saw the dragons leaving, we knew you had to have won. We set out sentries to watch for your return.”

  
He smiled and nodded. “I’m glad I didn’t take the long way back, then, dear friend.”  
Erilene then pointed at Lydia. “She was afraid you wouldn’t come back. I knew you’d be fine. She hasn’t seen how you fight like I have.”

  
He walked over to Lydia and wrapped her in a bear hug. “I missed you! I appreciate your concern. Surely the gods heard your appeals for my safety.”

  
Thorrin then turned to the crowd. “The World-Eater is no more. Please, I wish to have a quiet night at home before going out and celebrating. I will be out and about, but for now I’d like to have peace.”

  
The crowd grumbled and slowly dispersed. He put an arm around Lydia’s shoulders and all three walked into Breezehome.

  
As soon as they entered the door, a little girl came running up. “Hi, mister! I’m Lucia. Your housecarl and your friend let me stay here once it got cold. Thank you!” The girl hugged his waist, then went and retrieved a small bag of her belongings. “I’ll go back to the Temple of Kynareth. They always took me in. The food stinks there, though. It’s all vegetable soup.”

  
Thorrin stooped and picked her up, making her giggle. “I think you may as well stay here forever. How about that? We certainly have better than some vegetable soup.”

  
“You’ll be my papa? My real one died before mama did,” she said, suddenly serious.  
He kissed her cheek and said, “I shall be your papa, and this will be your family.”  
Erilene and Lydia looked at each other and sighed in relief. He’d taken that news better than they’d hoped. Lucia went to put her bag of belongings back in the room where she slept under the stairs.

  
Lydia and Lucia began working on dinner while Erilene helped Thorrin take off the bent and mangled bits of his armor.

  
“I’ll take these to Warmaiden’s tomorrow,” said Erilene, “I have to take my sword in for sharpening anyway.”

  
Thorrin nodded in agreement and placed a bag of Septims in her hand. “I picked up plenty of coin at Skuldafn. This should cover it.”

  
She accepted the coin and walked over to the table where his longsword rested. She drew the Nordic longsword from its sheath and inspected the blade. It didn’t seem to have too much damage done by Alduin’s scales.

  
He reached for the sword and took it from her. “He didn’t bleed. I think he was more god than dragon. The others bleed when they’re injured.”

  
Erilene’s brow furrowed. “If he’s more god than dragon, does that mean he’s actually gone?”

  
He shrugged. “I don’t know. The prophecy says the Dragonborn’s fate is to defeat Alduin for good. Whether that’s true or not, I don’t think the gods are willing to divulge any time soon.”

  
Lydia called for them to go and eat, and they sat at the table where a large kettle of venison stew sat with a sliced loaf of crusty bread and honeyed wine.

  
Over dinner, Thorrin recounted his journey through Sovngarde in detail. Erilene and Lydia listened intently as he told the epic tale and asked questions every so often. Lucia had gone to bed about halfway through the story. It had gotten late.

“Honestly, this whole adventure has made me realize that I want to slow down. I’ve defeated the firstborn of Akatosh, and I need a break. I want to experience more in this life than endless fighting and anger, so I found and kept this,” he said, as he pulled an amulet of Mara from his pocket. “I thought I might experience what this represents too. I spoke with so many souls in Sovngarde, and they made me realize there’s more to life than endless fighting and war. I need this.”

  
“What are you saying?” asked Erilene. “Are you going to stop adventuring to secure yourself a wife? Thor, you aren’t thinking straight. That’s not who you are.”

  
“Erilene, I think I know what’s best for me, thank you,” he replied a little coldly. He ran a hand over his beard and said very matter-of-factly, “In fact, you should do what you think is best for you. Go do something on your own. Make a name for yourself. You shouldn’t be riding my coattails for the rest of your life. I won’t keep you here while I’m off doing this boring work of courting.”

  
Lydia, seeing that the conversation may turn sour, cleared the table and went up to her room hastily.

  
“I don’t see it as riding your coattails, you egotistical ass. I’m making a name for myself by allying with the gods-damned Dragonborn,” she replied angrily. “I’ve saved your life more times than I can count. You’re my best friend here. You think to call that riding your coattails?”

  
“I’m offering you freedom, and you want to stay. Good gods, I’m giving you a break, Erilene. Take it and go, I beg you. For this at least, I would like to make my own mistakes without a constant witness,” Thorrin declared with a sheepish look.

  
Erilene set her jaw and looked intently at the table, then straight at Thorrin. “So be it. I leave for Solitude in the morning. The Imperial Legion needs help, and since you seem intent on refusing to take sides, I will do it. You go do the work of Mara; I’ll do the work of the Legion. I expect a messenger when you are to be married.”

Thorrin watched her rise and go to the door as Lydia began cleaning up the dinner dishes. “Where are you going?”

  
“I need to take a walk. It’s been a taxing day,” she replied. Just before leaving, she turned to Thorrin. “You may accompany me, if you’d like. I don’t want to wake Lucia with our talking.”

  
He stood and followed her out the door. She began a slow pace toward the Winds District of the city. Thorrin heard her sigh and looked at her resigned expression.

“You’re angry with me,” he said quietly.

  
She licked her lips and refused to look at him, her gaze fixed on the cobblestone path in front of her. “I’m not angry, I don’t think. I’m just confused.”  
“What about?”

  
She took a steadying breath and replied, “You’re my only real friend here, Thor. You’re my dearest friend, and I know it sounds foolish, but I worry for you, Thor. And now, it feels like you want to be rid of me.”

  
He stopped and placed his hand on her arm, halting her as well. “That’s what you think this is about? You’re mistaken, Erilene. I don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck with me. You’ve made vast improvement as a warrior, and I don’t want you to regret not adventuring on your own.”

  
She grunted and looked at him. “You’re trying to be kind and I’m the ass.”

  
“You have a way with words when the moment strikes, don’t you?” he said with a chuckle. “I want you to go out and not have to worry about people recognizing me. Make a name for yourself. The Legion will give you that chance. It’s a good idea.”

She nodded and they continued their walk. “I’ve been writing to Legate Rikke. She’s been hoping you would join the Legion sooner rather than later. I said you weren’t the warring type. She says she’ll take me all the same.”

  
He smiled as they returned to Breezehome. “I’ll write to you about my new adventures, I assure you. I expect to see Stormcloaks running from you one day.”

They parted and went to their respective rooms. Erilene had been sleeping on a fur pallet while Lucia had taken her bed. She carefully entered their shared room and crawled under her furs.

* * *

  
Erilene left early, without saying goodbye. She wrote a brief note to Thorrin and Lucia, then left with her few possessions in a pack.

  
Her mare Celene gently whinnied as she approached the stables. Erilene saddled her horse and loaded up the saddlebags before mounting and riding off toward Solitude and the Imperial Legion.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first post on AO3, but I've been a member and avid reader for a long time. It's about time I added my own to the mix. I hope you enjoy my first fanfiction in nearly 5 years!


End file.
